


...and there was only one bed.

by SchweenWinchester



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, Friends to Lovers, Knitting, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Trans Jesse McCree, and also throws an extremely passive aggressive tantrum about it, hanzo thinks christmas is stupid, jesse is a big ole gay mess, target practice holiday exchange 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester
Summary: What it says on the tin.For Target Practice 2019 gift exchange!
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 17
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

Knit. Knit. Purl. Purl. Knit. Knit. Purl. Purl. Knit-

Shit. He’d twisted his join again. Nobody had told him what a fuckin’ pain in the ass working in the round was.

Frog it. Again. Fifth time's the charm, right?

Jesse sighed in frustration and rewrapped the nice ball of bulky cashmere he’d gotten for his project. Being laid up sucked a huge pile of sweaty ass. Worse when Christmas was coming up and he’d gotten gifts for everyone on his list save for one person. The most important one on said list, no less.

Long tail cast on, forty-eight stitches in that sweet, beautiful dark slaty blue.

He looked out the window at the gray late afternoon sky that had been threatening snow all damn day. He’d at least been lucky enough to get away from base while he healed, with the caveat that he check in regularly with Angie.

Not even a real fuckin’ injury. Appendix- he’d thought it was the worst goddamn gas of his life, but next thing he’d known, bam, down another body part. Biotics had done most of the heavy lifting with regards to healing, but nothing worked so well as bed rest, according to the good doctor. He’d grudgingly acquiesced, begged for the okay to hole up somewhere quiet, away from Hana’s extremely loud streaming and Lucio’s weird sound experiments and Reinhardt’s... Reinhardt. Not that he didn’t like his teammates, but they definitely weren’t conducive to quiet relaxation.

Joke was on him, because while knitting was quiet, it was anything but fucking relaxing.

His momma had taught him when he was a kid, had proudly worn the lumpy scarves he’d made her from the godawful cheap acrylic he’d bought with his chorin’ money. Not a one of them had looked any good, but eventually he’d knitted enough weird scarves for her to sew into an even weirder afghan.

He gave brief thought to doing the same, but that would take too long. And Hanzo...

God, Hanzo. Jesse’s big stupid gay heart couldn’t handle how he felt about the guy. So intense. So intense in  _ everything, _ his emotions, interactions, the guy just committed full blast to doing whatever it was, even if it was scrubbing the toilets for his turn on the chore wheel. There was nothing halfway about Hanzo.

And that was precisely why Jesse would not-  _ could _ not- half-ass his gift.

Knit two. Purl two. Knit two. Purl two. Two inches of 2x2 ribbing. Had to be perfect. This time he was doubly careful when joining in the round.

A hat, of all things. It felt so piddly but he wanted to create something, to make it by hand, no matter how lumpy and awkward and fucked up it wound up being.

Still had to be perfect.

Knit, knit. Purl, purl.

\---

He’d just gotten through the ribbing and crammed another log into the woodstove when his door burst open, snow and frigid air gusting in. He’d damned near dropped his knitting grabbing his gun and training it on...

...Hanzo.

Hanzo with arms full of bags, looking frozen and bedraggled and irritated as Jesse very sheepishly holstered his pistol.

“Where is the kitchen.”

Jesse pointed, still mighty confused by the presence of his visitor.

“Good. I had heard that a storm was going to hit and I wanted to be certain you had plenty to eat for the next week. We will be missing Christmas.” Hanzo dropped the bags, disrobed down to his tighty whities- the only dry thing he had left on him- and set his clothes to dry next to the stove.

“We?” Jesse felt pretty stupid all of a sudden.

“We. I will not be attempting to leave until the weather clears.” Fuck, the man’s muscles looked fucking delicious moving under that pale olive skin and Jesse thanked the Lord he wasn’t cis as he popped the most ridiculous boner since he’d started T. “I will also be cooking for you since I have been made aware that your cooking skills are somewhat limited.”

“I can feed myself,” he grumbled, immediately defensive as he sat back down to figure out if he’d fucked up his stitches. “Haven’t starved yet. Just not good at much beyond the basics.”

“Good healing requires good food.” Hanzo immediately carried most of the bags to the kitchen and began to stock the shelves and refrigerator. “Not tuna noodle casserole.”

“Didn’t hear you complain last time I made it.”

“I was drunk. I will eat anything when I am drunk.” He meticulously began to organize the freezer to better fit his additions. “I will cook us Christmas dinner. We will be having gigot de sept heures.”

“Seven hour whatnow? Here, let me help you-”

“Sit down,” was the imperious command, Hanzo fixing him with those incredibly intense dark eyes. “You are unwell. You must rest. Sit down and play with your string.”

Shit. Shit! Hanzo had seen his knitting, and the surprise would be ruined as hell if he wanted to get it done in time for Christmas. Still, he plopped back down, a little delicately as his abdomen was not the happiest of campers, and resumed his knitting. No stitches had dropped, thank God. The hat was safe.

“Did Angie send you?”

“I sent myself. Everyone else is busy being ridiculous.” Hanzo nearly spat the word. “Christmas is stupid.”

“I dunno, I’m pretty fond of it, myself.” He counted up his stitches, switched to a buttery yellow yarn for the beginning of the color work. “It’s fun seeing everyone react to what you’ve gotten for them. Even better if you made it yourself.” Yellow, yellow. Blue, blue, blue, blue. Yellow, yellow. Four more blue. Continue around until he reached the beginning of the last row. Then, blue, yellow, yellow, and three blue to follow, repeat. Eventually it would look like lightning, or so he hoped. “Wish I was there for people opening their gifts.”

“Hn.” More loading into cabinets, now moving on to spices and herbs. “I forget that American Christmas is different from what I am used to. Which is stupid.”

“How is Japanese Christmas stupid? Genji always talked about taking his arm candy out for a nice date. It sounds like fun.”

“Dates are stupid and unproductive.”

Yikes. Jesse may have hit a sore spot. He hissed through his teeth as he worked the pattern he’d created, making a mental note to never, ever ask Hanzo out on an actual date.

“What are you making?”

“Hat.” It was going remarkably well. “Should be nice and warm once it’s finished. Hopefully it goes over well, because I really don’t want to knit another one.”

“Hn. Is it a gift?”

“Sure is.”

“The recipient will be a fool if they do not appreciate your work.” A low growl left Hanzo at the very thought. “For Fareeha? Those are her colors. I am sure that she will wear it until it rots off of her head.”

“Mm.” Like hell was he going to tell Hanzo who it was for. He fell into silence, working the yellow zigzags through the dusky blue. Hopefully it would be fashionably slouchy instead of way too tight or incredibly loose. Something to fit with the undercut and piercings that had showed up over the summer, tastefully douchebaggy.

He was shaken out of his concentration over an hour later by the sound of forceful chopping. Hanzo, still in his Fruit of the Looms and nothing else, cutting up various vegetables into large chunks- leeks, rutabaga, turnips, carrots, and something that looked vaguely cancerous but Jesse had to assume was edible by the smell of celery that filled the air when it was cut open. A little fennel. Lots of parsley. Shitloads of garlic. Peppercorns, bouquet garni, juniper berries.

“Smells good already.”

“I have not even begun to cook anything.” Hanzo’s face was still hard, a little pouty, not his usual self. “All you smell is garlic.”

“Garlic smells damn good on its own.” He hissed as one hand cramped up, set down his knitting once he finished the stitch. Slow going, even with the bulky yarn. “You’re in a fine fuckin’ mood. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“Disgusting.”

“Much like your attitude. Come on, I thought we were friends. Figured maybe spending Christmas together holed up in a snowstorm with my best drinkin’ buddy might be something to look forward to.” Jesse rose and stretched, padded over to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help out?”

“Sit down,” was Hanzo’s immediate order. “You are unwell and need to rest.”

“I’m bored and my hands are cramping. Come on, let me peel potatoes or something.”

“No.” Petulant. Something was definitely eating Hanzo. “I am nearly ready to put this roast in the oven.”

“It’s not even Christmas.”

“It needs a day to sit in the refrigerator for the flavors to meld.”

“Sounds fake.”

“You think peanut butter and banana bacon sandwiches are a valid foodstuff.”

“If it’s good enough for the King, it’s good enough for me.” Still, he returned to the beat-up recliner, grabbed a Vermont Country Store catalogue the previous renter must have left, and sat down to peruse the grandma candies.


	2. Chapter 2

It was about the time he hit the page full of grandma vibrators that Jesse heard cursing and growling from the kitchen, Hanzo in some kind of obvious distress.

“You okay in there?”

Silence. More cursing. Silence.

“Need help?”

Silence again.

He got up and shuffled in, slippers making awful scuffing sounds on the floor as he found Hanzo struggling with kitchen twine, trying to truss a massive leg of lamb that was very mightily refusing all efforts. He paused, taking in the tableau before him, before sucking his teeth thoughtfully, recalling a drunken conversation from months past.

“And here I thought you were into that rope shit.”

“It is different when the subject is dead.”

Wordlessly, Jesse stepped in to help, and soon the roast was tied well enough neither of them wanted to mess with it again. It would fit into the roasting pan, at least.

“So what now?”

“Put it in the pan with the vegetables, pour in the wine and add the herbs, grout the thing shut, and let it roast for seven hours.” Hanzo huffed, still a little irritable. “What time is it?”

“Getting towards midnight. You gonna try to sleep while this thing cooks?” Jesse had a lot of skepticism about this recipe. Seven hours would dry the thing out completely, even with the pan sealed shut.

“Help me make the dough. Then we will sleep. I will set an alarm to take it from the oven.” Hanzo’s brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled out the ingredients for a simple flour dough. “Where am I meant to sleep?”

“Well, to be honest, I only rented this with the idea that I’d be alone.”

“Which means?”

“Only one bed. At least it’s a queen.” He shrugged, feeling suddenly like he was in a mediocre fanfiction written by some drunk loser at three am. If he was, then at least it’d likely resolve into banging before the roast was done, right? If he was real lucky, the stove would go out with no wood left and they’d have to strip down to share body heat and maybe get a little something-something going on. Of course, this was all a fantasy cooked up by his horny little mind. In reality, Hanzo was in a terrible mood and Jesse wasn’t in the best shape right now and really didn’t want to pull his stitches.

“Only one bed. Of course.” Hanzo nodded resolutely. “Then we will share it. I should have brought my earplugs.”

“How come?”

“You snore like a freight train.”

“Yeah, and you fart uncontrollably in your sleep. Plus you’re a blanket hog.” Jesse helped him arrange the vegetables in the pan, let him set the roast on top since he wasn’t allowed to lift that much. “We’ll just have to suffer, won’t we?”

“Life is suffering,” Hanzo agreed sagely, putting the lid on the pan and beginning to mix the dough that would seal it shut. “Will you be continuing your knitting? It looks... passable.” 

From Hanzo, that was high praise. Jesse shrugged.

“Might. Want to get it done, get it wrapped. Shame you’ll be missing out on your presents until we get dug out.”

“I have no presents to worry about.”

“Like hell.” He knew at least Mei would get him something, because she had a big stupid obvious crush on him, just like Jesse. Genji would get him something, too. And Winston made everyone cookies, so that was another guaranteed gift. “I know you’ve got something to look forward to back at base.”

“There was nothing there with my name on it. I have no gifts to open.” His shoulders fell a little as he mixed the dough. “I admit I was a little surprised that you did not have at least a card for me. You had something for everyone else.”

Oh. Oh, that was it. That was the source of the shitty goddamn mood he’d been greeted with. No wonder Hanzo had been so damn pissy all day.

“Well... to be honest, your present ain’t done yet,” he said slowly, taking a roll of dough and pressing it into the crack between the pan and its lid. “And I was figuring on spending my time here finishing it up where you couldn’t see, so it’d be a surprise. It’s just taken way longer than I thought it would.”

Hanzo fixed him with a calculating squint as the two of them sealed the pan shut. “Is it the hat?”

“Yeah, it’s the hat.” So much for the surprise.

“I will wear it daily until I die or it comes apart.” Such conviction. That same intensity that Jesse got all twitterpated over. “I love it.”

Shit, now it definitely had to fit or else Jesse would never hear the end of it. “Thanks. Didn’t mean to cause you all this fuss.”

“Christmas is still stupid.” The last inch of dough was dutifully pressed into the crack, and Hanzo put the whole thing in the oven. “And I hate surprises.”

“Got it. Figured this might be small enough that you wouldn’t have minded.”

“No.” He snorted, slammed the oven shut. “I am going to go to sleep. You may join me, or you may finish the hat. Whichever you prefer. Are there enough logs for the fire?”

“Should be.” His heart was in his throat. “Think I’m gonna crash out, too. Tired enough I’m worried about screwing up your present. You set the alarm?”

“Of course. I would not want your gift to overcook.”

“Oh.” Well, now he felt real fuckin’ stupid. He hadn’t even wondered why the fancy dinner was happening, just chalked it up to Hanzo being... well, Hanzo. He was a picky bitch, and that was all part of the appeal. “Uh. Thank you. A lot. For this whole... thing. Didn’t want anyone to make a fuss, but I’m awful glad you did.”

It was obvious that Hanzo was choosing his next words very carefully- his brow was creased in the way it always was when he was concentrating, and he gazed slightly above Jesse’s head, as if plucking words from the air as he thought.

“You are... worth making a fuss over. I do not care for most of the social aspects of being a part of a team, but I am glad that you and I have become close. It is good to have a comrade.”

He turned abruptly and climbed into the loft, depositing himself on the bed.

“Are you coming up?”

“Huh? Yeah, hold on.” Off came the slippers, followed by his jeans and shirt. Hell, if Hanzo was gonna be damn near naked in bed...

And down soared Hanzo’s underpants, tossed from the loft.

“I sleep nude.”

“You didn’t last undercover mission we were on together.”

“We were not friends, then.” There was something weirdly unreadable in Hanzo’s expression. “Will this be an issue, or will you let your Western hangups about nudity force you to sleep on the floor? Because I am not moving.”

Shit. This really was a trashy fanfic come to life, and Jesse had no idea how to proceed, save to climb the ladder and slide nice and easy under the blankets next to Hanzo, who was doing his best impression of a radiator with how damn hot the bed already felt.

“Jesus. I’m gonna sweat to death like this.” Off came his own underwear. It felt weird and awkward, though he’d been naked in front of Hanzo many times before- gym showers, skinny dipping, just generally existing in the same living space on missions together. But being naked and sharing a bed? Somehow there was a line being crossed. Maybe a sexy line, he wasn’t sure. But instead of raising a fuss, he grabbed the blankets, rolled over to face the wall, let out a small, nervous fart, and promptly fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Jesse awoke to the world’s most irritating alarm and Hanzo’s rock-hard boner sharking his ass. It took him a hot second to realize what was going on, but soon he was elbowing his still-sleeping big spoon and growling under his breath.

“Get up, your roast’s done,” he bitched, more than a little annoyed that getting spooned by his naked crush wasn’t the result of some heart to heart gay bullshit from the night before. “Turn that fuckin’ alarm off and get back to bed, I’m cold and I wanna go back to sleep.”

It took a good few sharp nudges before Hanzo finally arose, dragged his sleepy self down the ladder, and pulled on the oven mitts to get the roasting pan from the oven and set it on the stove irons to cool. Off went the oven, away went the mitts, and Hanzo climbed back up, still hard as a rock and naked as a jaybird. He also didn’t hesitate to curl back around Jesse, who would have sooner died than admit that this was exactly what he wanted, ruching back against his friend.

“Mmm. Happy now?” This was accompanied by a tender little ear-nibble, which made Jess freeze in shock.

“Han?”

“Mmm.”

“You mean to do that?”

“Nnh.” Hanzo buried his face in Jesse’s back. “Sleep.”

Well, that was damned awkward and would have to be addressed once they had a few more hours’ in them. After all, wasn’t like they were going anywhere judging by how high the snow had drifted up the sides of the cabin. Maybe Jesse would finally get his gay bullshit after all.

\---

Jesse did, in fact, get his gay bullshit when he awoke a few hours later to find Hanzo sitting up in bed, a mug of tea in his hand and another sitting beside the bed, waiting for Jesse. Both were still naked, and Hanzo was looking handsome as ever reading some news thing on his phone.

“Good morning,” was Hanzo’s rough greeting. He didn’t look up from the article at all. “Your snoring has gotten worse since last we shared a room. Have you been checked for sleep apnea?”

Jesse didn’t answer, instead rolled over to watch Hanzo very carefully.

“Yes?”

“You nibbled my ear.”

“Hmn.” One immaculate eyebrow arched. “Did I? I was very tired.”

“Did you mean to?”

“Clearly not.” Jesse, however, caught that Hanzo was very _very_ pointedly looking at Not Jesse. Funny, he was normally an excellent liar.

“Think you did,” he said carefully. “Think maybe you came out here to tarnish my reputation.”

“You have no reputation worth tarnishing. If anything, associating with me would make you look better.” Still avoiding Jesse’s eyes. “You are imagining things.”

“Funny, because I wouldn’t figure on you being the type to get bent out of shape if a friend forgot to get you a present for Christmas. Especially since you think it’s a stupid holiday.” He sat up, leaning on one elbow. “Think you came out here to say something to me with that big fancy dinner you’re making. Bet you even got wine to pair with it.”

“I think you are a fool.”

“Least I was gonna have the balls to confess how I feel about you when I give you that hat. ‘Ooh, mister Hanzo, ooh’ and all that happy horseshit. And you’re the fool who’s foolish over the fool, no less.” Oh, he was feeling _terribly_ smug all of the sudden. “Wait till I tell your brother you’re a giant pussy who’s too scared to admit to getting gay over me.”

“Because I am not. I wanted to do something kind for a friend,” he insisted, but now those million dollar cheekbones were dusted with the faintest bit of pink. “I would never attempt to destroy our friendship by stooping to _date_ you.”

“Funny, I never brought up dating. But now that you mention it...”

Hanzo made a frustrated noise and did his best to storm down the ladder, shutting himself into the bathroom for the foreseeable future. Less effective than one would think, considering the bathroom only really had a curtain to slide shut instead of a satisfying door to slam.

“Han,” he cooed, still sniggering. “It’s okay to be gay. Promise. And I told you I’m right there with you, remember?”

“I am ignoring your puerile garbage,” he thundered, stomping his foot exactly like a tantruming child. “This is a stupid conversation! All I did was have a momentary lapse-”

“That I would have been more than happy to indulge if it wasn’t fuckshit o’clock in the morning,” Jesse singsonged.

“-and you seem to think that I have been pining for your attention for months! Fine! Very well! I find you indecently attractive!”

That... felt different than Jesse thought it would have.

“Really?”

Silence from Hanzo, save for some running water.

“Because honestly, likewise, asshole.”

The sound of teeth being brushed, a soft gag as he realized that Jesse had only brought cinnamon toothpaste instead of the vanilla mint he preferred. _Disgusting_.

“And like I said, I was gonna tell you when I gave you the hat, but since the surprise got totally spoiled, might as well do it now. I’m really into you, Hanzo. I like your intensity. And I like that you generally don’t bullshit me. Well, except for this morning. I like how blunt you are.”

A gargle and a spit. Another gag. The brown Listerine? Really?

“Think we could be a really good team, to be honest.” Jesse hung his upper half over the loft ledge, watching the bathroom curtain below. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re painfully handsome. Get all gooey whenever I see you smile.”

A little more ruckus.

"There ain't no goddamn window for you to climb out of in there, you know."

Hanzo pulled the curtain aside, deeply miffed.

"I do not want to hear this right now. Go knit my hat," he snarled, flushed a brilliant pink all down the back of his neck. "I do not care for your ridicule."

Jesse withered a little under Hanzo's stare, pulling on some underwear and climbing down sheepishly.

"Wasn't making fun of you," he muttered, sitting down with his knitting, but Hanzo didn't seem to hear.

\---

In about an hour, Hanzo had a bowl of bread dough rising by the woodstove, and Hanzo was sitting, glaring intently at Jesse's handiwork. He'd finally gotten through most of the decreases, and it had a shape that was almost entirely hatlike. Awkward silence had settled upon the tiny cabin, Jesse trying to focus on his work, but still glancing up to see if Hanzo had finally stopped scowling at him.

"You know, this would go more smoothly if you didn't stare at me."

Around again, knit two together, knit, knit, knit two together...

"I am trying to understand what you are doing." Hanzo's determined squint was still rather intimidating, though less so now that Jesse knew why it was pointed his way. "How the yarn works with the needles. It is fascinating."

"Well, when I'm done with this, I could teach you. Maybe. I'm not that great, myself."

Around, still working decreases until the round was too small to keep going. Pull the yarn through the live stitches and tie it off securely on the wrong side of the work.

"There! Try it on, let me see if I gotta rip it out and do it again." He passed it over, still connected to the skeins of yarn and trailing tails. "Don't want to cut the ends if I'm gonna have to redo it."

Hanzo held the hat reverently, running his thumbs over the pattern of lightning bolts running up it.

"It is beautiful," he murmured. "And so soft."

"Cashmere," Jesse supplied helpfully. "Put it on."

Still, Hanzo hesitated. It lay in his hands, impossibly soft on his rough fingers, too lovely to believe.

At least to him. To Jesse (and any experienced knitter) it was lumpy, weird, with uneven tension and twisted stitches and numerous flaws that no amount of blocking would remedy. The colors, at least, were nice together. And by God it sure was a hat.

"I have never had a gift this beautiful," he breathed, awed by the thing. "I am afraid to sully such-"

Jesse grabbed the hat and shoved it onto Hanzo's head, tired of listening to yet more self-flagellation. He needed to know that it fit.

"Perfect. Lemme weave in the ends."

He yanked it back, snipping the tails and grabbing a crochet hook from his yarn bowl as Hanzo sputtered, utterly infuriated by Jesse's disrespectful behavior.

"How dare you-"

"Shut up while I finish your hat."

Hanzo's jaw snapped shut with a click as Jesse worked, watching him add a few more uneven spots as he secured the dangling yarn tails.

"I was gonna wrap it, but there's no point now, I guess." He tossed it unceremoniously back at Hanzo, who caught it just before it hit him in the face. "Hope it keeps you warm."

Immediately, Hanzo pulled it on, tugging it down to fit over his ears and the shaved back of his head. The pattern stretched a little, but the stitches held firmly. And it mostly fit, too.

He looked totally ridiculous, naked save for the hat. Jesse burst into hysterical laughter, helpless as Hanzo beamed with pride, the hat down low over his eyes.

"I guess you like it?"

"Absolutely. I will wear it until it falls apart." Hanzo's smile was infectious. "Thank you, Jesse. I hope you enjoy dinner as much as I am enjoying this hat."

Jesse snorted, tugging the hat totally over Hanzo's eyes, making him squawk indignantly and grab for the other man. They fell off their respective chairs into a tangle on the floor, wrestling for dominance-

-until a wayward foot knocked over Hanzo's bread dough, sending it flopping out of the loaf pan and onto the dusty floor under the woodstove.

"My bread!"

Hanzo scrabbled to gather up the spilled mess, swore when he burned his hand on the underside of the stove, jerked back, hissing in pain. Jesse fared no better until he remembered to grab at the yeasty muck with his prosthetic, scraping it off the wood as best he could.

“Think you’ll need to make another batch. This is more ash and dust than bread at this point.” He plopped it into the pan, now a sad grey mess. “Sorry about that one. How’s your hand?”

“Agonizing. But it will heal.” Hanzo grumbled, shaking his hand to cool the burn a little. “You?”

“Bruised ego, singed fingers. Probably lost the cleaning deposit, but I’ll live.” He smiled, a little shaky once he realized Hanzo’s proximity to his face. “You look damn good in that hat.”

“So do you. Look good, I mean. Not in the hat. I am wearing the hat.” Hanzo’s brain had absolutely decoupled from his mouth. “Would you like to go out for Christmas dinner?”

“We’re snowed in.” He didn’t stop staring at Hanzo, though. “Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hanzo and Jesse rolled into Gibraltar a week late covered in hickeys. Angela gave them both a judging stare when Jesse reported to his much-belated checkup.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Don’t, uh. Don’t ask. But the, uh, the food was great.”

Hanzo simply turned pink and tugged a surprisingly lumpy, unfashionable hat lower on his head to avoid her gaze.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Target Practice 2019 Christmas gift exchange! My person was Spinel, who wanted cooking and knitting and I'm big into both. If you read the fic carefully enough there's basically my standard hat pattern in here, and I've made Hanzo's leg of lamb dish as well. It's great. Pair that bitch with Alsatian Riesling tbh.


End file.
